I Hear A Symphony
by MarblePlum
Summary: CrAsh hits Europe. From flamenco to balloon rides, from the city of Lights to the sinking city, it's truly a Roman holiday for the formally angsty duo. Dedicated to the AAs.
1. Chapter 1

This is a dedicatory fic to the Angsty Artists, who recently reached 100 threads of CrAsh appreciation. Though our couple hasn't interacted since GDTR, somehow we keep the faith and find the good in one of Degrassi's most complicated, rewarding, developed couples. Not for once do I think our efforts or faith have been wasted, and it's certainly brought us closer together. So this is for you, guys. Keep the CrAsh pride alive.

Okay, for anyone out of the loop who happens to be reading, the AA s planned a wedding for CrAsh (you can check it out on FanForum), which included a honeymoon with Craig and Ashley on a European tour. I suggested the idea, but everyone else thought about some great places where they can go. The one place we agreed where they shouldn't go is London, because of their associations with that place. (If you would like to see CrAsh in London, however, you can check out Somewhere to Watch Over Me, where they're getting ready to head across the pond to the place of double decker buses. :) ) Anyway, the places covered in this fic are: Madrid, Athens, Paris, Venice, Rome, and Naples. Each chapter is dedicated to the place they're in, with flashbacks to how they got where they are, including, of course, the wedding. We agreed they would marry young, so they're twenty-five, well out of school. There are mentions of other ships, but nothing that will detract from CrAsh, since this is their story.

For a different format, I'm going to start the chapters by describing a postcard or picture related to the destination, and then it'll blend into Craig or Ashley's thoughts as CrAsh honeymoons with flashbacks popping in as they tour. Hopefully, that made sense. LOL.

Thanks for reading!

**I Hear A Symphony**

_Whenever you're near  
I hear a symphony  
A tender melody  
Pulling me closer  
Closer to your arms_

_Then suddenly, i hear a symphony  
Ooh, your lips are touching mine  
A feeling so divine  
'till i leave the past behind  
I'm lost in a world  
Made for you and me_

_Whenever you're nearI hear a symphony  
Play sweet and tenderly  
Every time your lips meet mine now baby_

_Baby, baby  
You bring much joy within  
Don't let this feeling end  
Let it go on and on and on  
Now baby, baby  
Those tears that seem my eyes  
I cry not for myself  
But for those who never felt the joy we felt_

_Whenever you're near  
I hear a symphony  
Each time you speak to me  
I hear a tender rap so dy of love now_

_Baby, baby  
As you stand holding me  
Whispering how much you care  
A thousand violins fill the air_

**I Hear A Symphony is the property of the Supremes.**

**You and Me is the property of Lifehouse.**

Sea-blue boats cross the shimmering pond, stopped by statuesque, stone steps. Canoe paddles dip into the water, reflecting whoever holds them. A soldier bearing a sword sits atop a bronze horse; it's Alfonso come to defend sunbathers and puppeteers alike, so they can entertain the children of tourists. The white colonnade circles the protected, columns glowing white in the lazy afternoon sun. Those with smiling faces don't seem to appreciate it, more apt to discuss the wandering peacocks they've seen on the lawn, the lion statues that glimmer green in the heat. Have they seen the Palacio de Cristal yet, looking beautifully vulnerable and translucent, an inspired copy of London's? Or the Roseleda, a garden with brilliant roses, where yellow and black turtles are known to roam? There is really so much to see.

I.

They've seen it. A Spanish-English dictionary in hand, euros in their pockets, and Craig clutching two souvenir bags, they finally rest on the edge of a fountain, birds chirping in the distance. Craig's legs can hardly carry him anymore, unless he refuels. Luckily, Ashley being Ashley, she did the practical thing as always, smuggled some fresh sandwiches under his nose.

"Madrid," gushes Ashley. "The perfect place to start."

"My feet feel like I just ran with the bulls," groans Craig, accepting a ham and mustard sandwich from Ashley.

"Your T-shirt _is _red," notes Ashley, opening up a ziplock bag.

"Can't believe we found a Clash T-shirt in the middle of that huge market," says Craig. "Then again, we are experienced vintage buyers."

Craig leans in for a kiss, finds Ashley's lips.

The day is hot, not too much, but both of them are certainly not used to the climate. Thankfully, the park offers some shade in secluded spaces. Craig had some trouble saying the name. _Parque del Buen Retiro_. With a title like that, he thought it'd be a retirement home when Ashley showed it to him in the guidebook. But no, most people are around their age, early or mid-twenties, anxious for peace from Madrid's busy city life.

Peace..._paz..._that's what they were looking for, for more than weary traveler reasons. It makes sense after their relationship, a rollercoaster of emotions. Craig himself had a lot going on before they met, when they dated, after they broke up. You get Craig, complete with years of baggage, he joked, before Ashley told him to stop. It wasn't the type of baggage you could pack, and they'd packed a lot for their ten-day tour of Europe, in suitcases likely to spill over once they returned to Toronto. No, while this baggage unfurled as well when opened, he couldn't sort it out by himself. Joey was there to help, going to the graveyard where Craig's mother lay, confronting him about the bruises Albert left. The tears Craig cried on that day stung, burning frustration making his eyes water. Admitting that his father hit him, leaving his father to live alone, felt like some betrayal, but he knows now that it was a betrayal that needed to happen. He's never gone to Albert's grave, even when Ashley offered to go with him that first summer following his death. Maybe someday he will, leave some flowers.

He has to confess that when he saw Ashley's parents, and Chris, watching them come together as husband and wife, he would've liked Julia and Albert to be there, despite the dark moments, the disappointments. Still, the pews weren't empty to showcase their lack of presence. They were filled, and Joey danced with Ashley more gallantly, clasped his son more proudly than he thinks Albert could've.

Finishing their sandwiches, they glance upward, see an angel in agony, stone wings arched in desperation. Ashley stares at it thoughtfully.

"I...I think this is the fallen Angel," she remarks, standing.

Craig reluctantly rises too, feet still aching, puts an arm around Ashley.

"Leave it to us to find the most dramatic piece of art in the park," teases Craig, pulling her closer.

"Based off _Paradise Lost_," informs Ashley, taking out a small piece of paper. "You know, when Lucifer's kicked out of heaven. I researched it in the brochure the guy with the parka handed us. The book was written all the way back..."

"Ash," interjects Craig. "I love hearing your tidbits, but you can stand in front of something and appreciate it once in awhile."

Ashley looks around sheepishly, smiles at strangers who are talking happily, with no brochures in sight. She nods, folding the brochure carefully, returning it to her purse.

The angel's curly locks are all over the place, appearing disheveled, his body contorted in pain. Craig is no artist, not like Jimmy anyways, but he can sympathize with the fountain's statue, a little too well. He's shared similar pain, similar longing to find some semblance of his old self.

_He could see the streamers from outside, a car honking in back of him. They looked a bit gaudy, pink. No, he shouldn't think things like that. They were both his friends, despite being out of contact for months. But, come on, pink streamers? It got worse when he opened the door to the Dot, heavy thumping music, music you could hear on any mainstream countdown. Prom-ish music. They must've gone to the prom together, and he wouldn't be shocked if they got king and queen, Degrassi's golden couple._

"_Craig!" greeted an excited voice to his left._

_Spinner wiped his hands on his serving apron, extended one out to Craig. Craig shook it, felt some grease._

"_Grill's still open," said Spinner. "Came here right after training. Going to graduate the academy soon, man. Guess they're not the only ones who're on to bigger and better things, eh?"_

_Spinner pounded Craig on the back, disappeared behind the Dot's counter. Bigger and better things. The words echoed in his mind, as he quietly made his way to the group huddled in the center of the restaurant. Everyone came. Dylan dyed his hair brunette, rested a hand on Marco's chair. They were going strong, but to general surprise, they weren't the first ones to get engaged in the lot. Dylan's hockey schedule probably had something to do with it, as he was usually away while Marco toiled away at his studies. Toby, one of the new freshmen at the University of Toronto, chatted with his dad and Kate, obviously feeling like an outsider among the others. If only Toby could feel half I what I felt, thought Craig._

_Craig straightened his leather jacket, placed his hands on the back of Ellie's chair, pulled at her red-haired ponytail._

"_Hey!" he said, loudly._

_Ellie squealed in fear, jumped up. As Ellie threw a napkin at Craig, warm laughter filled his ears. _

"_Craig, you didn't tell us you where getting in!" scolded Marco, rising and hugging his much taller friend._

"_Thought I'd surprise them," defended Craig. "Yeah, leaving the center in a couple days..."_

_An awkward silence covered the room, no one sure what to say next. Hmmm, he thought they'd be used to talking about the treatment facility by now. He was. Actually, he grew to like it, after he left the first year, had a relapse, then went back. Perhaps they were worried about another relapse._

_Dating Ellie the first year ended up prolonging his recovery. It definitely wasn't her fault. Craig just kept pressing and pressing for her relationship, so eager to see where it could go, continually so unsure if it would ruin their friendship. When he went into the facility, he thought of his past, who he hurt the most, and Ellie immediately came to mind. Sure, he knew how fragile she was after the Taking Back Sunday incident, but so was he, he told his conscience. He honestly believed they needed each other. Ellie disagreed, said he needed time to himself so they broke up. It sounded like she was ditching him at the time, and finding the coke was easy. As he got high, he got further and further away from himself, from Ellie. The euphoria was good...at first. Then, he fell apart, with no one to lean on, and realized Ellie was right. He needed to be himself again. Who would drive him back to the center, though? He couldn't face Joey, or even Marco, Jimmy, and Spin, who'd been so proud of him for sticking with the program the first time around. Someone who didn't know his whole sordid history would be ideal._

_When Ashley picked up the phone, she answered with a customary hello. The hello wasn't cold or warm, simply polite. Then, her words started to soften, listening to his plea to talk with someone, and she showed. She arrived at midnight in some street they didn't know existed, Craig stumbling out of a grocery unkempt, unable to look her in the eye. That had been the usual, since his first gig in Toronto, when she sat in the front row. He didn't mention how proud he was to play in front of her, or happy that she came, given how they ended things when she went to London. Jimmy acted as some intermediary, and they engaged in a conversation that lasted two minutes at the most. Craig rubbed his nose throughout it, Ashley looking down. He wondered if she knew he was high._

_The night on the street, however, made it pretty clear that he'd been using. His eyes were blotchy, bags underneath, and his skin appeared sunken, after having lost a significant amount of weight. Ashley, on the other hand, was clean and crisp, wearing a long dark denim skirt and a lacy, white blouse._ _Craig focused on her earrings, so shiny, small, ones he'd never seen before._

"_Craig, are you alright?" asked Ashley, tentatively coming forward. _

"_I...I just wanted a sandwich," said Craig, then coughing loudly._

_Ashley's blue gaze pierced him with pity. Craig shoved his hands in his pockets, shook his head._

"_Go away," snapped Craig, wiping his nose with his sleeve. _

"_You called me," said Ashley. "What's going on?"_

"_No!" exclaimed Craig. "I shouldn't...shouldn't have called you."_

_She reached to embrace him gently, but he pulled back, hugging himself._

"_Talk to me," begged Ashley, tears surrounding her eyes. _

_Craig went over to a phone booth, absentmindedly leaned against the side. Red light from a traffic stop overhead illuminates where they stand. He took it as some weird sign of him being stuck, stuck between using and not wanting to use. After all, he'd been here not too long ago. Dialing Ashley's number, he recalls that she once did something reckless with drugs, needed time to find herself. Then, she found him too. How appropriate that she's the first person he called. _

"_I...I messed up bad," stammered Craig. "Just...my manager came into my dressing room, saw me doing lines, ordered me to go back to rehab three weeks ago. Been living in one of my friends' apartments, trying to work up the nerve."_

_He can see the worry on Ashley's face in the red light. Her mouth creased at the sides; they always did that when she was worried, especially when it came to him. _

"_Let's get in the car, Craig," whispered Ashley. _

"_I don't know...," started Craig._

"_I am not going to stand here and watch you fall apart," said Ashley, sternly. "You're my friend."_

_The last word was spoken so quickly it startled both of them. Friend. He isn't sure what to make of that, but his brain began to gain a little clarity, his heart slowing in speed. Honestly, they hadn't acted like friends for over three years, more acquaintances than anything. Still, that sharp word, delivered so delicately, forced him to grin._

"_Yeah?" asked Craig._

"_Yeah," said Ashley, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket._

_She wrapped one arm around his waist, and they walked to her car. On the way, Ashley filled him in, regarding her life. She was preparing applications for school, to pursue a pre-law degree, her folks were fine, and Jimmy popped the question that summer. Seeing the ring didn't make the concept register any better. He glanced at it the entire drive to the center, then wouldn't look her in the face when she left._

_The day of the party, the ring would be all the brighter, being flashed everywhere. He couldn't escape it. Spinner placed a tray of onion rings in front of Craig, sat in between Ellie and Marco. _

"_Should we forgive the happy couple for being late to their own engagement party?" posed Ellie, playfully tapping her chin in thought._

"_I think it depends on how happy they look coming in," spoke up Kate._

"_Let's hope for the best," said Toby._

_He was met by laughter, then silence, as Ashley opened the door, let Jimmy wheel into the entrance._

"_Surprise!" yelled Marco, Ellie, Spinner, Ashley's parents, and Toby as soon as they spotted them. _

_Ashley covered her mouth in shock, hugged Jimmy from behind. Craig lowered his head, tried to make his mouth smile. It did, and he stood reluctantly._

"_You guys!" cried Ashley, going over to hug Ellie._

"_Paige sends her apologies," informed Spinner. "She's coming after her business class meeting."_

"_Since she's holding down Squatch Wear, got no complaints," replied Jimmy. "Craig...man, hey!"_

_Craig raised his eyebrows at Jimmy. "Ashley decided to make an honest man out of you?"_

_Ashley, hair straight and luminous, dressed in a lavender camisole top and tight jeans, waved to Craig shyly, her eyes then immediately drifting to the soda dispenser. Craig might have imagined it, but her face was turning as pink as the streamers._

"_Eh, don't know about that part," laughed Jimmy, hugging Craig._

_Craig stared at Ashley as he embraced his friend, Ashley playing with the pocket of her pants. _

"_You're quiet, Ash," observed Jimmy, letting Craig go. _

"_Oh...yeah, hi Craig," said Ashley, walking over to Craig._

_She awkwardly hugged him, her chest softly heaving against his. Craig closed his eyes to enjoy the moment, but only for a second, releasing her. _

"_Jimmy, come here real quick," said Marco, gesturing to a smaller table. "We can discuss final honeymoon plans."_

"_All for that," said Jimmy, taking Ashley's hand, kissing it. _

_The rest of the group went back to discussing various things, including how Ashley would make a beautiful, blushing bride. Blush as much as she is now, he thought, watching Ashley rock back and forth on her feet. He didn't think so._

"_You...you look better," complimented Ashley._

"_I'm trying," said Craig. "Clean...for nine months. Swear."_

_Ashley's blue eyes lit up. "That's so...so great, Craig. Knew you could do it."_

"_And law?" prompted Craig. "How goes the life of the future prosecutor?"_

"_Um...," said Ashley, wrinkling her nose._

"_Bet it's tough," comforted Craig. "After the first year..."_

"_The first year...so boring though," admitted Ashley. "Depositions, regulations...when you're knee-deep in it, you can't get out. It's about as stifling as this wedding's going to be. July and all."_

_July? That soon? It was already April. Craig shrugged, trying to maintain an air of indifference. But the fact that she called it "this wedding" made him hopeful for some reason. "This" made him think of temporary, easily thrown away. She could've said "our wedding" or "my wedding", taking some ownership of the event. No, no, that's ridiculous. _

"_Jimmy chose the date?" asked Craig._

"_I did," corrected Ashley._

_Craig frowned. "Oh."_

"_Penciled it in," continued Ashley. "Mmm...haven't stared at the calendar since."_

"_Jitters," offered Craig._

"_I've been having jitters ever since I wrote it," said Ashley, biting her lip. "Nineteen's really young...there's so much I want to do and...say."_

"_Say?"_

"_I...um, I also put down the day you went to the center, marking off days when you were in, circling when you'd be out. I know...know it's been nine months, Craig. And...I hoped you'd be here..."_

_Ashley shook her head as if scolding herself regarding the words flowing out of her mouth. Craig swallowed a lump in his throat, moved some of the hair that had fallen out of her face. She kept track of him too? He remembered waiting for her that summer before what would've been their last year of high school, counting the days, kicking the drumkit in frustration after hearing from Ellie that Ashley would be staying. She waited for him? _

"_Ask for a little more time," whispered Craig, spying Jimmy receiving a pat on the shoulder from Jeff._

"_Time for what?" breathed Ashley. "We discussed this plan years ago, all the way back in high school. Mrs. Brooks is already looking at apartments in New York..."_

"_Plans fall through," said Craig, smiling faintly. "I mean, look at us."_

_He blinked at Ashley, and he could see on her face what he'd been alluding to, the apartment in Vancouver that was never rented, the ring she might've worn, the trip to England they never took. Ashley rubbed her eyes furiously, an effort to stop the tears._

"_If friends feel this way, they aren't friends," whispered Craig, bringing his face closer to hers. "We've never been...only friends."_

_Ashley held her hand to her chest, squeezed her ring._

"_Well, we have to be now," whispered Ashley, giving Craig a short nod._

_He watched Ashley find Jimmy amidst the crowd, his gaze burning a hole in her back. She felt it too, glancing guiltily at Craig as she led Jimmy to the dance floor. Their friends cheered, Ashley's tall form hitting a hanging streamer. She batted it away, sat on his lap to dance with her fiancee cheek to cheek. Too bad they're not heart to heart._

_Craig stood firm as the music blared, stared at her until she returned the stare. _

_A half-smile appeared on his mouth, Craig searching Ashley's expression.__She sighed softly against the side of Jimmy's head, peering at her ring. Counted the days, huh? Right then, he could tell she was counting the seconds. Ashley raises her head, smiles sadly at Craig. _

_And it's you and me and all other people  
And I don't know why, I can't keep my eyes off of you_

_Craig releases a deep breath, hurries to the exit, exchanging awkward good-byes with a few people. He leaves, viewing Jimmy and Ashley through the front window, streamers obscuring their countenances, silently mouthing whatever happiness was supposed to be there. _

"Where are you?" asks Ashley, pinching Craig's nose for a second.

"Lost in thoughts of you," replies Craig.

"You're getting lyric-y," says Ashley, poking him in the stomach.

"Like I'd write something that cheesy," says Craig, grinning. "And if I did, I'd die before admitting to it."

The crowd in the park is thinning, a couple stragglers trying to feel the spritz coming from the churning fountains as a way to cool themselves off. Craig glances at the angel, a final time, takes Ashley's hands.

Sometimes things were meant to fall, whether angels or people. He knows that if he hadn't fallen, he wouldn't have gone in for the second time, with the more intensive sessions, under closer supervision. Getting clean came with a price, many nights of uncomfortable withdrawal pains, loneliness, disappointments from people who thought he'd get it together the first time. But it also brought a gift, Ashley. She became a part of his life again, for better or worse, in sickness and health. He never felt more happy, and healthy.

"This feels like the perfect way to start," says Craig, kissing her cheek. "You were right."

II.

Her hips curve, stretch, body elongating to the low, vibrating sounds of the guitar. Black heels clack against the pavement, a red flowy skirt twirling as Marisol claps her hands. That's her name on the poster board hanging outside the restaurant, and she does flamenco in front, staring at the sky momentarily as if she was getting directions from above. Good work if you can get it, thinks Ashley. Truly, if she could live the rest of her life doing something as creative as Marisol, she'd love it.

"Don't you wish you could dance like that?" questions Ashley, looping her arms with Craig's as they walk past the restaurant.

"I wish I could dance...period," says Craig, chuckling.

"No, you can't say that," protests Ashley. "We've danced a few times, and you're good. You lead well and everything."

"We can dance and I'll lead you to bed tonight," whispers Craig in her ear.

Ashley buries her face in his shoulder, turning red.

When Marisol turns in rapid, sharp movements, the folds of her skirt go in and out, as if a red rose is blossoming from her waist. Ashley yearned to blossom for years, first at Degrassi, but especially whenever she received her readings for her law and criminal justice classes. The words in the depositions were harsh and cold, not like poetry, which she found charming and accessible. Everytime she watched the court cases screened in her classes, she'd envision a pen taking the place of a gavel, the witness stand morphing into a Korg Triton keyboard, ready for her to play. Some fantastical daydreams, to be sure. They weren't practical, and she tried her best to make them go away. Creative writing-craving, moody musician Ashley was supposed to go away, and she'd be a woman, a new married woman.

"Baila! Baila!" shouts Marisol, stopping Craig and Ashley in their tracks.

"No...no...," begins Craig, looking at Ashley for help.

Ashley shrugs apologetically, starts digging in her bag for her digital camera. Marisol beams at Craig, starts dancing around him, stomping to the beat. Late night diners encourage him, shouting "Vamos, vamos! Baila!"

"Move, Manning!" shouts Ashley. "Pretend you're Enrique Iglesias or someone. He was born in Madrid!"

"Let me guess...your guidebook," says Craig, raising his eyebrows.

"Enrique!" cries an old man happily, snapping his fingers to the staccato rhythm.

"Enrique?" exclaims Craig, grimacing.

"Not into the Spanish music scene either!" confesses Ashley. "Jut out your hips, move, thrust...eh, wing it!"

Craig begins to clap, putting his hands behind his back, imitating a dance somewhere between the Funky Chicken and the salsa. Ashley giggles, snapping a quick photo. Marisol draws in Ashley, Ashley barely getting the camera strap around her hair.

"Oh, no, really," protests Ashley.

Marisol wasn't taking no for an answer, nudging Ashley to the center.

"Ha!" says Craig, smirking at Ashley.

The guitar strums faster, Ashley twirling, despite a lack of skirt. Craig, clueless, claps along with Marisol as Ashley spins around and around. The gesture causes her to grow dizzy, tiny gold and white lights streetlights in the corner of her eyes, the glow of the green lighted-awnings of the Palace Mayor, the blue umbrellas shading coffee drinkers in the porticoes, a flash of vibrant color. Gone was the dull white of her law examinations, the monotonous questions she would've taken for the LSATs, the unnerving ache she felt when turning in the declaration of her major to her academic advisor.

_Even filling in the form bored her. She got more joy writing her name with her work. That made sense. She used to take pride in writing her name under the title of her songs and poems. So long ago, she reminded herself. And they weren't shown to the same boy either. _

_Ashley quenched these meandering thoughts, rubbed her pen against her temple. The day after the engagement party, she felt this renewed interest in preparing herself for law school. Because that's where I'm going, she thought. That's what she and Jimmy decided. Never mind that Squatch Wear was located in Toronto. Actually, Squatch Wear did enough damage. Mr. Brooks pushed for Jimmy to give the store up, said he should go on to law school and get a fancy figure job. Be practical like Ashley, he said. You don't see her playing around on her little keyboard anymore. "Little keyboard", his exact terms for the instrument collecting dust in her closet. Jimmy agreed to an extent, deciding to use Paige as a cover, though he was still technically co-owner of the store. Mr. Brooks found out near Christmas, refused to endorse the idea, kept skipping out on family events due to his anger, including the engagement party. Jimmy pretended he didn't care, though Ashley noticed he came in later the past two months, working hard to make sure the store was in good hands before they left for the city._

_Ashley heard the familiar click of the front door, heard Jimmy's chair go over the linoleum floor as he set down his sketchbook._

"_Hey," greeted Ashley, turning the page of her textbook._

"_Hey," said Jimmy, in a distracted fashion._

_Ashley looked up, saw Jimmy clinching his hands nervously. _

"_Stressed?" asked Ashley. "Me too. I have an exam on some aspect of jurisprudence due next week. I got marked down for the wrong citations. University's brutal."_

"_All about the details," waved off Jimmy._

_Some sympathetic response, moaned Ashley inwardly. Well, sometimes he'd shut off after a hectic work day. Mr. Brooks was a little like that too, truly business-minded._

"_I've got news, Ash," spoke up Jimmy suddenly._

_Ashley highlighted two terms, grabbed a pencil. "Listening."_

"_Paige scored a deal with a chain...like a real clothing chain!" exclaimed Jimmy, wheeling to her side._

"_Wow...wow!" shouted Ashley, throwing her arms around Jimmy._

"_Spin and I totally weren't expecting her to pull it off," continued Jimmy, eyes shining. "Man...and they want to set it up next year."_

"_Next year?" breathed Ashley, pulling away. "But...we were transferring to New York...is Spinner handling stuff?"_

"_Spin can't handle all this by himself," answered Jimmy._

"_Paige is...," started Ashley._

"_Paige isn't the owner," interjected Jimmy. "They need me here. Plus I want to try out some of my new designs."_

_Ashley shut her textbook lightly, rolled her eyes. His designs, hours sketching, his freedom. _

"_Your creativity gets to push back our plans?" snapped Ashley, standing._

"_Excuse me?" said Jimmy. _

"_My music...can't remember the last time I played," said Ashley. "I don't get why you get to be creative and I..."_

_Ashley started to arrange her papers into a folder, feeling Jimmy try to grab her waist. She kept him at bay, folding her arms._

"_You gave it up," said Jimmy, nodding at her textbook. "This is...this is my dream, and law school can...can wait."_

"_That's the thing, Jimmy...it can't," said Ashley, throwing up her hands. "It...it can't. You said we'd go to law school, open a practice together. We were all set."_

"_What does it matter if I'm taking care of you?" questioned Jimmy, shrugging. "Go to law school here. We'll get married, and I can pay for all your classes with the money, buy you a house."_

"_I don't want a house!" yelled Ashley. "I want to play, like you want to sketch."_

"_My art brings in money, though," said Jimmy._

"_And that makes all the difference," said Ashley, sarcastically. _

"_You quit," reminded Jimmy._

"_I stopped," corrected Ashley, narrowing her eyes at him. "And __**that**__ makes all the difference."_

_Jimmy clasped his hands over his shaved head, attempts to settle Ashley into his lap, but she won't budge. She won't make any more concessions for him, any more sacrifices for a failed dream. Tears welling up inside, she knocks the textbook off her desk, Jimmy staring at her, amazed._

"_Consider my law school career over," said Ashley. "First decision I've made in awhile, not counting the design of our wedding invitations."_

"_Next, you'll be ditching the wedding planning," smirked Jimmy. "You're always bailing on something and blaming me, ever since we were...twelve? Old patterns never seem to die, huh?"_

_She couldn't believe he went all the way back to their high school memories, dipping in the well to show how they failed to work things out. Their identities had shifted so much, with Jimmy having these great artistic realizations, while she waited in the wings placidly. It was like they were in an hourglass, tipped, sand coming down, suffocating all her air, her air to breathe at the bottom. Meanwhile, Jimmy was planted above, no sand under him, breathing in freedom, awakening. _

"_Agreed," said Ashley, grabbing her purse. "Which is why we should end this."_

_Her feet took her outside, her hands slammed the door. Acting on automatic, she rushed to her car, began to cry. Her vision was blurry by the time she got to a place where her lungs would gain access to the sweetest air possible, her head could fall into the softest of shoulders._

"_We're...we're done," breathed Ashley when he opened the door._

_Craig ushered her inside his apartment, boxes still packed up since he'd just moved in, relocating from the center. They sat on a small futon, so small they had to stretch their legs._

"_What happened?" asked Craig._

"_Pressure," whispered Ashley. "And papers...and lies to myself...and a mistake."_

_Ashley laid her head into his chest, Craig stroking the top of her soft hair._

"_The yes was way too hard to say," said Ashley, sniffling._

"_You do have a pattern of taking awhile to say yes," teased Craig. "How upset is..."_

"_As much as I am if I don't play anymore," said Ashley, confidently. _

"_This ear isn't only good for discussions," offered Craig. "Would love to hear your first steps back into the music world."_

_Craig ran a hand through her hair, smiling. His smile sent electricity into her, as if she's shocked by a paramedic, encouraging her to breathe, to make her heart beat. Ashley spread her fingers against his chest._

"_How happy are you being here?" wondered Craig aloud._

"_As much as I want to be," answered Ashley._

_Lifting her chin, he lets his mouth press against hers, Ashley running her hands down his back, feeling Craig completely, sorrowfully. She was sorrowful because he ignited happiness in her too fast. Ashley stops kissing him, Craig kissing her cheek, her neck, the skin exposed under her V-neck shirt._ _Finally surrendering, she let him hold her until dawn broke, her heart pulsating, making low music. She knew it would be the first of the music she'd soon listen to and create._

Marisol releases Ashley and Craig, indicating they can join the observers on the sidelines. The stars stay stationary in a brilliant shade of blue, guitar melodies gliding across the streets, the _calles_ that haven't lost their luster. Once in a while, she wonders how Jimmy would paint this or that, a sad habit that she's never lost. Moreso, however, she thinks about how she'd set these various scenes to music, and she's glad for that. Her music eventually had to win to make her happy. Finally, her freedom is her own, and she'd found a partner that knew how much it meant to her, appreciated all the undertones.

"How about some flamenco on your demo?" suggests Craig.

"Staccato might sound killer with a synth," agrees Ashley.

She'd been prepping a demo since graduating college, with Craig's encouragement. So far, it was a mix of rock ballads and earthy, mild pop, but she keeps changing her mind, loving a host of different ideas. This was her project, her baby, so she wanted to make sure it was perfect.

"The bongoes we heard in the park...also an option," says Ashley.

"So is...uh, erasing that picture of me having a spastic seizure?" says Craig, smiling hopefully.

"Shoot. I was planning on plastering them to your record company's walls," groans Ashley, then laughing.

"Don't you dare," warns Craig, mischievously.

"On second thought," says Ashley. "I'll keep it close."

"Why?"

"When else can I say you danced for me?"

Craig twirls her around, and she feel as beautiful, as graceful as Marisol.

"Danced_ with_ you," corrects Craig, holding her tight.


	2. Who's To Say

**II. Who's To Say**

_And who's to say that we're not good enough?  
And who's to say that this is not our love?_

_Mother don't tell me friends are the ones that I lose  
'Cause they'd bleed before you  
And sometimes family are the ones you'd choose  
It's too late now  
I hold on to this life I found_

_And who's to say we won't burn it out?  
And who's to say we won't sink in doubt?  
Who's to say that we won't fade to grey?  
Who are they anyway, anyway they don't know_

_And you say we're too young, but maybe you're too old to remember  
And I try to pretend but I just feel it when we're together  
And if you don't believe me, you never really knew us  
You never really knew_

_You and I, packin' up my room, we feel alright  
But we're not welcome  
Soon we'll be drivin'  
Cause they don't know who we are_

_Who's to say we won't stay together?  
Who's to say we aren't getting stronger?  
Who's to say I can't live without you?  
Who are they anyway, anyway they don't know_

_And you say we're too young, but maybe you're too old to remember  
And I try to pretend, but I just feel it when we're togetherWho is to say?  
And who is to say?  
And who are they anyway?_

**Who's To Say is the property of Vanessa Carlton.**

**April in Paris is the property of the Count Basie Orchestra.**

The tops of the umbrellas have many hues, like multi-colored rain fell, dyed the cloth in rich reds, greens, purples, ebony stands supporting them. Newly created art, some still drying in the middle of frames, hang securely on bulletin boards, shade from ancient trees undermining their brilliance. Artists should be aware of these things by now. This is where they collect. Montmartre, Montmartre, where even the bistro tablecloths are crimson and clover, where cats are the laziest of residents, where the carousel turns clockwise, without fail. Everything is reliable, luminescent. Then, why does the white house on the hill stand so mysteriously, down the path where druids trekked, where Picasso drew inspiration? The cream-colored domes glow, now an innocent gold, before it will shift to that sinister night red, and people relax, stream across the cobbles of the road, play critic to paintings they pass, chew on baguettes. So the ruby-toned windmill stays still, the neon lights of Moulin Rouge dead due to daylight.

I.

"Head left, head left!" instructs the small man in a French accent, nearly yelling.

In a dark green jacket, and chalk-inked, button-down shirt, he sighs in frustration, waits for his pleas to be heard. Craig stands awkwardly, unable to pick up the meaning of the words.

"He wants you to turn your head left," clarifies Ashley.

"Oh!" exclaims Craig, sitting, immediately doing so.

Wow, he knew artists were temperamental after being on his two rock n' roll tours, but this guy? A little too much. Although, he seemed to be more kind to Ashley, flashing her a smile every now and again as he drew, starting up conversations. Hopefully, the caricature wouldn't have him looking awful next to the girl the artist was so obviously enamored with. Looking at Ashley, he understands, though. Flowing, red-brown hair falls to a demure, artsy black top, with her dark lavender skirt just above black ballet slippers. She looks every inch the artist. He's always been so used to her changing her style up, switching to see what stuck. This eventually stuck, and Craig enjoyed the final choice. When they went to the Louvre earlier, and viewed the Mona Lisa, with her mysterious grin, anxious eyes, sun-kissed skin, it reminded him of a centuries-old Ashley. Ashley was as much his muse, as the woman to Da Vinci, but he actually got to marry his muse.

"Your ears...crooked," mutters the artist, sniffing loudly, glaring at Craig. "Too many curls for my chalk..."

"What?" says Craig, frowning.

Ashley pats his knee, offers him a sweet glance. Eh, he'd let it go this time.

As they pose, the artist giving Ashley's teeth extra shine, Craig stares ahead, wonders what Joey and Angie are doing at this moment. That's what he used to think about when he was alone during the second stint in rehab. He missed Angie's first date, some boy who hung at the local deli, who ended up being the godson of Wheels, Joey's high school buddy. Joey loved that, and it irked Angie at first, but she liked Taylor enough to get past it. There were other things he missed, too, but he'd rather not relive the memories he could've had if he stayed clean. The second trip to rehab meant really cracking down, including cutting off contact with his loved ones for months.

After she fled to his apartment, Ashley joined that elite group. Their night together was beautiful, awkward, but beautiful. He only kissed her, held her to his chest. She was so tired, exhausted by exploding and hidden emotions. Her cell phone rang. They knew it was Jimmy. Ashley slept through the noise after awhile, Craig keeping an eye on her. Everytime her phone rang, he glanced at her ring, diamond glittering in the soft light of his apartment bedroom. One call he didn't expect came around seven in the morning, Ashley stirring for a few seconds, then falling right back to sleep.

_Groggy, Craig stretched, picked up._

"_Hello?" mumbled Craig after a huge yawn._

"_Craig, you were supposed to report to the center by now," said the familiar voice of Dr. Hinton, who preferred to be called Nick. "We let you out to get your apartment in order, expecting you last night or an early morning arrival. Our seven o' clock meeting? That's what we agreed upon."_

"_I know...I know...," started Craig._

_Craig glanced nervously at Ashley, carried his cell to the bathroom, only made up of the shower, bathtub, toilet, and medicine cabinet. He shut the door lightly behind him._

"_If we can't work together, if you can't make commitments," sighed Nick. "Craig, you've come such a long way, all the progress you've made..."_

_Ugh, he hated when Nick sounded disappointed. Nick had a daughter in rehab, so all his efforts and scolding came from the heart. He particularly liked Craig, since his daughter and wife were fans of his last and only CD. Craig liked that Nick was patient, and more importantly, confidential. Nick didn't even reveal anything to Craig's manager without his permission, let Craig share what he wanted to share. And if he knew what I did last night, thought Craig, shaking his head. _

_The kiss happened. He can't, wouldn't change it, but half of him regretted doing it. He knew the rule. Wait at least nine months for a romantic relationship, a year if recommended. Nick pushed for a year, and because of his past relationship troubles, particularly the failed attempt with Ellie, Craig agreed. They even had alternatives to sex in these little pamphlets, like exercise. Yeah, tell that to his hormones. Well, he didn't go all the way. But maybe it's best to tell Nick._

"_Um...there's someone...someone here," admitted Craig, running a hand through his hair._

"_Craig!" whispered Nick, urgently. "Okay...okay, just...tell me what occurred?"_

_Craig stared at his white socks, then sat on the cold toilet lid._

"_Remember the girl I told you about...my random first fiancee..."_

_He heard Nick take a deep breath. During his first stay at rehab, he didn't mention Ashley. The first counselor was way more interested in his parents, particularly his father; his career and the temptations the doctor assumed showed up during that year; Ellie, the girl who got him to come to the center. All their conversations were odd, ending with the doctor, fifty with greying hair, telling him he had to conquer his demons. They wrote down his demons. Craig didn't find that it helped since he already knew what they were. Eh, his intentions were good. Nick, on the other hand, really dug, asking Craig when he last felt really, really happy. He recalled playing in his garage, without any critics slamming his music, loving the freedom of it, simply jamming with friends. And Ashley. Nick was very interested in Ashley, his first girlfriend, the girl who drove him to earn respect and give respect. That's what Craig wanted, he realized. He'd love to be a respected son, brother, musician, perhaps a husband and father. Respect yourself too, urged Nick after hearing of Craig's impromptu proposal. Slow down. The ring will come later._

_Ashley showed him some respect by calling him her friend. Those words were the words he carried into every session, every group meeting, because he wanted to be a good friend, show others he wasn't a lost cause. _

"_Only kissed...I swear," assured Craig._

"_Craig, we've had so many talks about waiting, not jumping into things," said Nick. "These first few months out are going to be crucial. You remember what happened with Ellie."_

_Craig nodded, though Nick couldn't see him._

"_I know Ashley's special to you, but if she...she can't wait, then I don't see any good coming of it," continued Nick. _

"_She...she broke off her engagement," shared Craig._

"_Wait...she was engaged too!?" cried Nick._

_Hmmm, forgot to tell him that, remembered Craig._

"_I'd advise you to step away," warned Nick. "Let her figure out what she wants."_

"_She has!" insisted Craig._

"_You may feel that way, but we've gone over how your feelings aren't always time conscious, haven't we?" replied Nick._

"_Yeah...yeah, I guess," whispered Craig, shaking his head. _

"_So...a year?" _

_Craig remained silent, staring sadly into the medicine cabinet mirror. A year now that Ashley is interested in him again? Truly torture, but he can't miss any other huge events in his friends' lives. How many weddings, graduations, births would go on without him? How much of Joey's money and his manager's money would he waste with more stints at the center? How long before he himself gives up, lets the addiction conquer him? _

"_A year," promised Craig, clicking off._

_The buzz of the dial tone burned his eardrums. He parted the door to an awake Ashley, knees hunched to her chin, seated on his bed. She appeared a little frazzled. She thinks the kiss was a mistake too, guessed Craig, gently sitting next to her._

"_Eggs? Bacon?" offered Craig. "Fries with gravy?"_

_Ashley snickered, played with the edge of the blanket. _

"_There's a restaurant around the corner," said Craig._

"_Breakfast would be going overboard in the hospitality department," replied Ashley, throwing the blanket off, standing._

_Craig gets up quickly too, straightens his jeans, new, wrinkled. She was so scattered, and suddenly Nick's words made sense. He couldn't expect too much. The ring was on her finger, she only left the night before, Jimmy's calling her. _

"_So that kiss...thinking it was a mistake," breathed Craig, hesitantly staring at her._

_Ashley's mouth dropped, darting her eyes. "I...I didn't."_

"_Oh, me either!" said Craig. "I mean...I thought you thought that we thought...sorry."_

_She shrugged, apparently understanding. Good. He always loved that she eventually understood him despite the verbal vomit. _

"_Your...your recovery," whispered Ashley. "Doesn't...then you and Ellie..."_

"_A year," filled in Craig._

_Craig slowly approached her, took her hand, diamond still attached to that finger. He loved touching her, yearned to kiss her, stay. That was an option too. No, it would be an option he'd have to pass on, for the time being._

"_You asked for more time at the party," said Ashley, tears at the edges of her eyes. "I...I don't know why I'm crying."_

_His own eyes were getting wet, cloudy. _

"_Join the club," comforted Craig, hugging her. "Ash, if you can't...I get it."_

"_There's nothing to get," assured Ashley. "I remember a boy who waited for me to come home from London. I owe him."_

"_Well, time owes us," said Craig, kissing her forehead._

_He wanted to say more, but the door bell rang, breaking them apart. Ugh, he hoped he wasn't someone from the center coming to drag him off like a disobedient schoolboy. Once, when he was eight, his grandfather tried to escape from the retirement home, and a nurse came to get him from the racing track. Now, that was cool. Getting taken from his apartment, in front of the girl he's in love with, not cool._

_Leaving Ashley to freshen up in the bathroom, he went to the door, opened it. Jimmy's intense, coal-black eyes stared up into his, fists furled._

"_Jimmy," greeted Craig softly._

_Craig heard the elevator door slam, as Jimmy tries to look past Craig's tall body._

"_Do you know how embarrassing it was to ask Ellie for your address?" asked Jimmy, glaring at Craig._

_He gave Ellie and Marco the address to his apartment, wanted them to be his first two visitors upon his release._

"_As bad as it was asking Marco for directions to your engagement party?" returned Craig, raising an eyebrow._

"_Funny," said Jimmy, smirking. "If the music thing tanks with your next album, consider comedy."_

_Craig rolled his eyes, stood stark in the doorway._

"_Where is she?" demanded Jimmy. "She's either here or she's out on the streets. My bet is...you took her in."_

"_As opposed to you, who sent her running," said Craig, stepping to the side._

_Jimmy refused to look at Craig as he wheeled in, instead staring at the emptiness of his apartment. It had to be more bare than the apartment he shared with Ashley, thought Craig, even with the boxes unpacked. _

"_What I'm having trouble with is why you're still involved," spoke up Jimmy. "She left your tired butt when she went to England. Didn't contact you when your tour ended, in rehab. You must be a last resort."_

_Jimmy's words stung him, but he kept his composure. Craig went to the counter, retrieved the sole coffee mug in his cabinet. Add the year wait to these insults, and man, is he tempted to do a few lines, get high to forget._

"_Let me talk to my fiancee," whispered Jimmy, wheeling right behind Craig._

"_Not a good idea, Jimmy," said Craig, facing him, leaning against the counter._

"_Yeah, it is," argued Jimmy, tone surprisingly low. "You don't know anything about me and Ashley, alright? You won't take advantage of her when she's confused..."_

"_Advantage of her?" yelled Craig. "I love her!"_

_Craig closed his eyes in shock, lets out a breath. Definitely shouldn't have said that. Jimmy would find out eventually._

"_I knew it," said Jimmy, eyes dropping. "What was Ellie? A way to get to Ash?"_

"_Man, shut up," muttered Craig, walking past him._

"_Don't tell me what to do!" barked Jimmy, voice raising. "Suddenly, my girl's unhappy with everything, running off to...to..."_

"_To me," inserted Craig, raising his arms._

"_As cocky as you were in high school," said Jimmy, giving him a disgusted look. "Ashley's not the same, Craig. I don't know if this is some trip down memory lane because she's got cold feet or law school is driving her up the wall..."_

"_She's not a lawyer, Jimmy!" exclaims Craig. "Or someone who's meant to get married before graduating. Or...or some girl who lets you do whatever while she doesn't do anything she wants."_

"_But she is wearing my ring," asserted Jimmy._

_Craig's cheeks went red, and he slammed the mug against the counter top. The sound resulted in the bedroom door opening, Ashley appearing, completely dressed, hair fixed. Craig and Ashley shared a reluctant stare, him unable to detect what she wants. It was all so clear when they were by themselves. This is all some dream, he guessed. Some dream. They'd never last a year. _

"_I...I have to go to the center," stammered Craig, grabbing his leather jacket from the futon._

"_Craig...," began Ashley, starting to him._

"_Talk," said Craig, wiping his eyes. "Just...close the door on your way out. Locks automatically."_

_He walked briskly out, into the dark hallway, the morning sun not warming him as it comes through the complex's windows. Warmth wasn't for him. After all, there must be some reason why the ring never left._

"Oooh la la!" praises the caricaturist, taking the portrait off his easel.

Ashley excitedly grabs Craig's hand, and Craig curls his fingers over hers. Letting out a dramatic sigh, the artist allows them to see his masterpiece. The Sacre Coeur Basilica stands erect, engulfed in rays of orange and yellow, pink and light blue buildings revolving around the central square, where he's placed them. Ashley is Ashley, olive complexion smooth, gorgeous blue eyes large and seeking, smile charming and alluring. She has her head cocked to the side, near Craig's. Craig believes he doesn't look too shabby, shaggy dark hair with less curls, leather jacket housing his skinny frame, eyes the shade of a bleached evergreen. Honestly, he was anticipating a total massacre. His only complaint is the goofy grin, in comparison to Ashley's joyful grin. He'll pay.

"It's on me," says Ashley, digging into her purse.

"Ash...I've...," starts Craig.

"Nah, you paid for my baguette," reminds Ashley, handing over the money.

The caricaturist places the portrait in a large frame, slips it into a carrying bag, hands it to Ashley.

"Knew I like mademoiselle better," says the caricaturist, gratefully grinning at Ashley. "Ma petite cherie."

"Hey!" protests Craig.

"Craig, it's my little darling," clarifies Ashley. "He calls Marie that. Told me I looked like his daughter before we sat down. Your French can't be that shabby."

Ashley leads him away from the easel, wraps an arm around his waist.

"Never had it in university," plays off Craig. "Or any university, for that matter."

"What happened when you met your French fans?" laughs Ashley. "Drag out the little you know from high school?"

"There's not much talking,"jokes Craig. "There's panties..."

Craig chuckles as Ashley playfully hits him in the stomach. They go past a couple cafes, accents cutting through the air, summer winds blowing their hair. An organ grinder diligently cranks his instrument, dancing to the bouncy, melodic tune. A monkey with black fur dances in front, paws hitting the heated pavement, pink skirt attached to the waist. Two children skip in synch to the music, the organ grinder dipping his hat to Craig. They stall, exchanging a smile.

"I play anything...for you," says the organ grinder.

The monkey bares his teeth at Craig.

"For him?" says Ashley, pretending to be offended.

"Hey, chalk dude liked you more," reminds Craig. "My turn."

He goes to the side of the organ grinder, strokes in chin thoughtfully. Does he know any French songs? None, except like _Frere Jacques_.

"I got nothing," confesses Craig, returning to Ashley.

The monkey scurries over to Ashley, dancing around her feet. She holds her skirt to her sides protectively.

"Pierre like the lady to sing," explains the organ grinder. "We pay you a nickel and he dance for you?."

"I...um...monkey!" whispers Ashley, glancing at Craig. "Why is the boy monkey wearing a skirt?"

"That would please me," agrees Craig, beaming.

He bumps Ashley forward, massages her back. Clapping, the children sit on the side of the street, clearly ready for a show.

"I'm so getting this for you," whispers Ashley though gritted teeth.

"My organ will do the classic everyone know," asserts the organ grinder. "The April in Paris? Familiar?"

"That's...that's a standard," stammers Ashley. "I know it."

"You do?" exclaims Craig.

"Music theory...university," explains Ashley. "Section on jazz."

Craig tosses her an impressed look, takes the portrait, lowers himself in between the two children, anxious to hear her. He's heard her sing a couple jazz songs casually in the car, but never anything serious, not that this is serious too. The organ grinder changes the pitch, then starts to play, a slow, enchanting rhythm.

Ashley sings, folding her hands in front of her:

_April in Paris  
Chestnuts in blossom  
Holiday tables under the trees_

Her voices carries, everywhere. Strong, learned, confident, beautiful. It's grown with age, like wine, matured like these children, also enraptured, probably have.

_April in Paris  
This is a feeling  
No one can ever reprise_

The beauty of her voice halts a few tourists, as they gather to watch her with increasing interest.Craig's fairly certain not all of them speak English, but he feels like they don't have to, as Ashley belts out. He can't imagine her ever wanting to give up music, sacrifice her expression for a salary job. You can't sing with this much passion and power without your soul being exposed. That's what got him on stage every night during his tours. There's got to be some desire to please yourself at the end of it all.

II.

_I never knew the charm of spring  
Never met it face to face  
I never knew my heart could sing  
Never missed a warm embrace_

When Ashley reaches the second verse, she feels herself surrender to the song. The summer breezes are cool enough, the crowd is listening hard enough. It hurts to remember when she didn't play at all, sing whatever she desired to sing.

The first year they were together, the Brooks often invited her and Jimmy out to eat, and there would be a pianist grazing his fingers over the keys grandly, or an in-house singer who seemed to sing only to her, as if she meant to spark that guilt buried in her heart. Why feel bad, she'd ask herself. I haven't betrayed anybody. She pretty much changed her mind when she saw Craig at the engagement party, despite all her efforts to convince herself that law school is where she should really be. At Degrassi, they talked about making it big, what artists they'd love to collaborate what, what artists they wouldn't sit next to at awards shows. All their decisions were seamless, natural, almost as much as their duets. Their duets weren't always successful, as the Christmas one was interrupted due to Craig's infidelity, and the Kevin Smith project faltered, but they had so much fun writing and arranging, they cared little about success. Now, Craig has it, and she couldn't be more proud. Apparently, Craig wanted to be proud of her, eventually convincing her to start a demo. Twenty-five's not too late, he says. She doesn't know, honestly. Most acts were younger nowadays, but he said it with such conviction, she's willing to try.

She was done trying with past decisions, decisions that only made sense when she made them make sense, reassured her mind that it all made sense. Jimmy's arrival at Craig's apartment was expected. She hated being so cold to him, but it had all been building up, and secretly she thinks Jimmy wasn't shocked. In fact, he was more hurt, than anything, she believed. Hurt covered his face when he came into the bedroom, viewed the wrinkled sheets. They weren't sleeping together, though she suspects Jimmy wouldn't believe her.

"_You okay?" asked Jimmy, managing to look away from the bed._

"_I'm fine," answered Ashley, weakly._

_Jimmy put his arms behind his head, let his head rock a little. He always did that in times of great stress, when the store wasn't going well, or he was struggling with an introduction or conclusion for a college paper. Ashley imagined Jimmy's father doing the same thing._

"_I've thought about what you've said," admitted Jimmy, lowering his arms. "I'm sorry. If you want to play, that's cool. We'll work it out."_

_Work it out? There are things that are impossible to work out, namely the guy who just left so they could talk. Saying nothing to Craig in his departure, offering him no explanation, killed her. He had to know last night wasn't some fluke, that Jimmy can't argue his way into her affections._

"_Wish it were only the music, Jimmy, because that would make this easier to fix," replied Ashley, starting to pace across Craig's room._

"_Seriously confused," sighed Jimmy. "Ash, what do you want? What I want is to make you happy."_

_Ashley fought back tears, let a couple fall. Even if there's someone else that she cares more for, even if her heart is breaking to tell him this, Jimmy's still Jimmy. Her first boyfriend, the first guy she's lived with, in general a kind and good person. Most girls would die to be with him; for her, her soul is dying in this relationship._

_Crouching next to his chair, she puts her hand over his._

"_None of this is your fault, Jimmy," she starts._

_Jimmy's eyes become teary. "You...you act like it is."_

"_It's not, believe me," chokes out Ashley. "But...we aren't meshing. We don't want the same things anymore. I don't know. Must've been easier in high school with us trying to fit in, especially me. We...we can't live a dream that's a lie for both of us."_

"_What are you saying?" whispered Jimmy, clenching her hand._

"_Stick with the store, go to art school," said Ashley. "Find...find someone who won't run."_

"_You weren't running til Craig came," breathed Jimmy, his voice breaking at the mention of Craig's name._

"_I've been running a long time, Jimmy," corrected Ashley. "And when I don't, I'm wanting to."_

_Jimmy let Ashley's hand go, tears drying on his hardened face. This may be too much to take, but he has to know the truth, swallow the truth. _

"_I love you, Jimmy," said Ashley, trying to hug him. "You mean so..."_

"_Don't finish that," snapped Jimmy, inching away from her. "Like you don't finish anything."_

_Ashley froze, stared pathetically at him. It took her awhile to come out of it, hand pulling off the ring. Lips tight, Jimmy accepted the ring, backed up his wheelchair, started for the door. Ashley followed him, trying to conjure some words to say._

"_Jimmy, can't we...," began Ashley._

"_Be friends?" asked Jimmy, his back to her. "No. You don't get it both ways, Ashley."_

_There was a soft knock at the door. Craig. Ashley immediately came forward. Jimmy opened the door to a confused Spinner, clothed in his basic training uniform._

"_I...parked the car...waited," stammered Spinner. "You guys ready?"_

_Jimmy said nothing to Spinner, instead facing Ashley, who wouldn't meet Spinner's gaze._

"_My mom and I are going to New York for the weekend," said Jimmy, calmly. "Have your stuff packed before I come back."_

_Without another glance, Jimmy wheeled past Spinner, glaring at Ashley. This is it. She can't believe Jimmy listened, though she can tell he's making his retreat as swift as possible so as not to cry anymore. She anticipated Spinner attacking her, but he coldly looked at her, closed the door with a resolute slam. How long he'd hate her she's not sure. Spinner was funny like that. Jimmy, she wasn't clear if they'd ever speak again._

The next few months were hard. They flew by, but were hard. Her first act once Jimmy left was to call Craig, tell him they split up for good. Craig proved unreachable, and she lay in her bed at her parents' home, crying. Ellie later confessed he called her to say he'd be out of contact. Kate and Jeff kept checking on her in her old bedroom, and so did Toby, who'd chosen to remain at home to help lower the cost of his university attendance.She wouldn't name the reason for the break-up all throughout the spring, which aggravated Kate, who thought the marriage to Jimmy was a sure thing. In the summer, she agreed to room with Geri, a British girl from one of her law classes. The dorms weren't too bad either; sharing a bathroom was the main annoyance. She and Geri got along well, discussing their respective London haunts, and despite Geri continually asking why Ashley was dropping law for music.

Changing majors was liberating. She had never actually declared her major, but she felt so pumped about doing it then, she went to the academic office as soon as it opened. The secretary glanced at her card, remarked, "Music? How nice. We haven't gotten many music majors this year." The difference thrilled her.Because she wasn't a first year, or even a sophomore, and in addition to her high marks at Degrassi, she got to take advanced level music courses. Music theory turned out to be her favorite, and Professor Carew asked her to be a part of the after-school program for elementary students the following semester.

Assisting kids with playing their mallets on the xylophone, or learning vocal exercises, or perfecting their first scale on the piano, she loved them, the experience. It was kind of like she was twelve again, guiding Terri through one of her first compositions. They called her "Miss Ashley", were bright and inquisitive, only acted up on certain days, mainly whenever a school break was on the horizon. Spring break that year...started off stressful.

"_Have you guys tuned yet?" asked Ashley, laying her sheet music on the piano._

"_Yes," replied Cady and Eddie simultaneously._

_She could tell by the tone that they were lying. Whose bright idea was it to have them practice their duet the day before break? Oh yeah...hers. Cady was so fidgety; she was rarely fidgety. Eddie prompted it by poking her lightly in the shoulder._

"_Stop!" cried Cady. "I'm telling."_

"_Eddie, stop it!" scolded Ashley. "Give me a B."_

_Ashley played the note on the piano, Eddie producing a robust B. _

"_Good," complimented Ashley._

"_I don't wanna sing no duet," moaned Eddie. "Especially with a girl."_

"_What makes you think I wanna sing with you?" said Cady, sticking her tongue out at him. "You forget the lyrics almost all the time."_

"_Hey!" intervened Ashley. "You guys have two of the best voices in the class, and you blend beautifully. Your voices make a perfect team. Let's start where we left off last rehearsal."_

_Ashley played a few introductory bars, Cady swaying to the beat, Eddie rolling his eyes. Eddie was probably hesitant to sing this since Cady chose the song. Still, he chose to go along with it. Her own personal belief as to why Eddie usually forgot the lyrics? He was too nervous around Cady, who he secretly liked. Right on cue, every time he came into the room for class, he'd blush when he saw her. Cady, totally oblivious, didn't pay him any attention. Young love...always so complicated. Ashley smirks as Cady starts to sing:_

_And you say we're too young, but maybe you're too old to remember  
And I try to pretend but I just feel it when we're together  
And if you don't believe me, you never really knew us  
You never really knew_

_Her voice was so chipper and sweet, and Ashley always thinks of herself at that age, when her tone wasn't as good as Cady's. Cady admired Ashley's piano skills in return, asked if she knew any other piano/singers. Ashley recommended a couple Vanessa Carlton songs, seeing as the subject matter of them wasn't too risque for a nine-year old. Carlton was okay, not too mainstream._

_Cady glanced over at Eddie, signaling his entrance. Eddie gulped, started to sing softly:_

_Who's to say we won't stay together?  
Who's to say we aren't getting stronger?  
Who's to say I can't live without you?  
Who are they anyway, anyway they don't know_

"_Louder, Eddie!" instructed Ashley over the roar of the piano._

_Eddie obeyed, looking cautiously at Cady. Ashley knew the duet would go well when it was actually performed. Eddie pulled through, when he could stare out into the crowd, ignoring Cady. That was the opposite with Ashley. Her last duet, at prom during grade eleven, she looked to Craig for comfort, barely able to glance out into the throng of semi-formal attendees, Jimmy included. Craig had a good time, playing his axe, loving the moment. His excitement made her love the moment._

_Unfortunately, Eddie's mouth lost the words yet again, causing Cady to groan in frustration. He shrugged at Ashley._

"_Break is breaking my brain," said Eddie. "Can we...leave?"_

"_Okay, you'll just have to work longer when break's over," informed Ashley, standing, thinking letting them out five minutes early won't do any damage._

_Eddie and Cady exchange joyful looks, fetch their bookbags._

"_Bye, Miss Ashley," they chimed in unison._

"_Bye...have fun!" called Ashley after them._

"_I need a ride home," said Cady as they exit._

"_Ugh...fine," replied Eddie. "Don't kick my seat when you're in the back, though."_

_Ashley laughed quietly, collected her things, zipped her own bag. She wondered if Geri picked up Japanese for them. The last time she had Japanese was so awkward. _

_Out of the blue, Jimmy did call her, invited her out for sushi. Honestly, she would've loved if Craig called first, despite the action making her remember they'd be waiting a year. Jimmy was unexpectedly nice, however. They sat, talked about their original sushi date, when Jimmy presented her with a handmade portrait. Ashley told him she had that picture up on her wall in her new place, which made Jimmy smile. She also showed him a picture of her kids, including Cady and Eddie. First romance, she proclaimed. That elicited a knowing look between them. Most of the rest of the dinner, Jimmy told her that the clothing chain decided not to go with his line after all. Jimmy thought it was for the best, so he could concentrate on art school. Not meant to be, he reasoned, like some other things. Ashley quietly agreed. The better news was that the art school awarded him a scholarship. Ashley told him she was proud, and really, it was the first pride they'd shared in the past two years, finally an accomplishment where one didn't have to secretly want something else. Funny how it took years to get there. Maybe not so much._

_Ashley had his friendship again, and everyone else gradually accepted it. Spinner came with Paige to check out Ashley's new living arrangements, offered to move a few pieces of furniture when the movers dumped stuff unceremoniously in the hallway. They were good friends, staying most of that day to help. Geri thought Spinner was adorable. _

_Things were getting normal, thought Ashley, locking the music room with Professor Carew's keys. Pocketing them, she started down the hall, nodding to people she knew. In the middle of the stretch, she saw someone else she knew, doesn't nod. Truth be told, she hasn't kept track of how many days it had been. A year seemed like forever. But the engagement party was in April, and yes, it was April. Craig stared at her awkwardly, Ashley moving slowly to him._

"_Ellie gave me the room number. I hope..."_

"_You're looking good. I was..."_

_They talked at the same time, laughed anxiously. Craig shrugged, smiled, stuffed his hands in his jeans. Ashley's eyes fell to the floor._

"_What have you been up to?" asked Ashley._

"_Recording," replied Craig. "Friend set up a studio not too far from the center. Perfect proximity if I ever get antsy. Lucky."_

"_So Vancouver...," said Ashley, voice dropping._

"_Yeah," sighed Craig. _

_Ashley wasn't sure what to say. It was understandable why he hasn't called, especially the way they left things. He also had no clue as to how things were with Jimmy, and perhaps he was anticipating a call from her after that first week. When to talk was the issue. The whole situation, as awkward as the sushi catch-up dinner with Jimmy._

"_How many students?" asked Craig, a few fifth graders pointing at him._

"_Ten. Not a big class," answered Ashley. "How many songs?"_

"_Nine...you win," said Craig._

_They both laughed, comfortably, thankfully._

"_Nice to see you, Craig," whispered Ashley, hugging him to her._

_Craig pressed her more firmly to him, stroked her back. He really did look good, sober, healthy, genial. If he decided that the promise shouldn't hold, she would force herself to understand. Her heart's tender, but it's a little stronger. Growing up usually does that. And she wouldn't run. She'd stand to hear his decision._

_He released her, bit his lip._

"_Feel like talking?" encouraged Ashley. "It's okay if you don't. A year is..."_

"_A year and six days," said Craig, grinning slightly._

_Ashley smiled, happy he kept track like she did before. None of their waits have been wasted, or maybe she wanted to believe they haven't been wasted. What is she to say to that? Regrettably, she doesn't get the chance._

_A fifth grade hops to him, socks against the linoleum._

"_I love you!" cried the girl. "Can you sign my shoe?"_

_Craig offered her an amused grin, took the shoe and the pen from one of her friends. Ugh, maybe this wasn't the right day to do this._

"_Call me?" said Ashley, eyeing Craig sadly. "Cell's the same."_

_Ashley waved, walked a little._

"_Wait!" called out Craig._

_She stopped, kept her sight on the doors to the school's entrance. A familiar, shaky voice sings, echoing in the halls:_

"_Something 'bout the way you shine, when the lights go out, wanna make you mine. Something 'bout the way it seems, you're always here, in my dreams..."_

_The lyrics were still so resonant with her. Why were they? Man, this was from years ago in high school, when she was more worried about zits rather than engagements and career planning. But yes, the tears are slipping down her cheeks, and she turns to him._

"_Oh, no, I'm not scared, but I'm in love...with you," finished Craig, then clearing his throat._

_Ashley cried more deeply, in an ugly fashion where she curses herself. She probably looked a mess, though she went to Craig anyway, hugged him. Craig beamed, handed the shoe to his admirer, who was all confused, talking in raised voices with her friends as they left._

"_I can't wait another year without you," breathed Ashley against his chest._

She never did, as Pierre the monkey prances across the street, moving wide-legged to the spontaneous audience. He was trained to dance for cash, so the act was only natural. Pierre is given a nickel, which he knaws on.The organ grinder motions for him to hand it to Ashley, but she declines.Ashley continues:

_I never knew the charm of spring  
I never met it face to face  
I never new my heart could sing  
I never missed a warm embrace_

_Till April in Paris  
Whom can I run to  
What have you done to my heart_

Ashley immediately finds Craig, pulls him into an embrace with the final word. Sturdy, welcome applause enters her ears as her heart beats.

III.

"And if I may, I will speak highly of our crepe suzettes, topped with the finest Grand Marnier. Carmelised sugar, raspberries..._tres magnifique_," encourages the maitre' d, taking Craig's menu.

"I'm stuffed," breathes Craig, slouching a bit in his chair.

"Oh, come on," nudges the maitre' d. "Here, in the City of Lights, it's only right you indulge in the best of cuisine. Our chef would be more than happy to whip up anything you like."

One garcon dips politely, claps his hands to call two garcons. Ashley stares meekly at Craig. He may be used to this type of treatment, but it's very odd for her. They went to a couple fancy restaurants on his second tour. Craig usually asked for chicken, gave up after that. Ashley identified a few things on the menu, had trouble with the wine. Order champagne, shrugged Craig. Save yourself the trouble.

"Ash?" asks Craig, taking out a credit card.

"Um...more champagne?" replies Ashley.

Smiling, the maitre' d retreats, two servers in two, clearly pleased to be getting more money out of their well-known guest.

"Jean knows how to treat a rock star," sighs Craig, happily.

Ashley smiles, glances to her left and right. Only a few people are staring, in contrast to the many stares that greeted them when Craig lead her to the restaurant, _Altitude 95. _The name of the restaurant sounded really scary to her. She was calmed by the gorgeous design of it. Wood-paneled floors, immaculately dressed servers, candles in silver candlesticks, and the grey, grated ceiling, the Eiffel Tower overhead. She had a similar reaction when she went with her parents to Niagara Falls, and they went under the Falls. Being underneath something important is eerie, but wonderful.

"You've been here before?" asks Ashley, as Jean sets down two champagne flutes in front of them.

"Four times," speaks up Jean, beaming.

"I like the chicken," defends Craig, checking the bottle Jean hands him.

Craig shakes the bottle, pops the cork, which goes flying to the next table. A woman in a black dress screams. Craig covers his mouth as Ashley giggles.

"My apologies, madam," says Jean, running to her. "My fault."

"Oh boy," says Craig, scrunching his face as he pours Ashley a glass.

"Something tells me Jean's got it covered," assures Ashley.

"Must tip abundantly," notes Craig, looking up at the ceiling.

"So wild to think we're under one of the most artistic buildings in the world," says Ashley, taking a sip.

"I know, especially when you could be under one of the most artistic men in the world," whispers Craig, winking at her.

"Dirty...real dirty," chastises Ashley, blushing.

"Our last night in Paris," reminds Craig, handing Jean his card. "I can afford to be a little dirty. Unless, I send corks flying everywhere and have to tip everyone."

"At least your French is getting better," consoles Ashley.

"Wearing the beret really helped," jokes Craig. "I look at pretty girls, and go _Je t' adore _or _Je t'aime_ or _le coup de foudre. _They faint, they sigh..._" _

"_Sacrebleu!_" exclaims Ashley playfully.

"Touche," says Craig, laughing.

Craig and Ashley polish off their glasses, Craig taking out a wad of bills, putting them on the table once Jean returns with his credit card. Ashley, a tad light-headed, grips Craig's arm for support as they leave. The car Craig ordered is there. In Spain, they really didn't have too many run-ins with his fans since he never toured there, just the usual request for a picture or autograph. In France, a totally different story, resulting in Craig asking for a car with a driver and tinted windows. Ashley could tell he hated ordering the automobile, that he wished his last album hadn't gone platinum here. Ah, it would pass. Craig loved his fans, even with the increasing loss of anonymity.

They settle into the rear of the car, Craig lowering the window momentarily. The tall structure is upright, lighted by the moon, then a few moments later, starts to flash in a wave of lights. It's like a beautiful steel Christmas tree, thinks Ashley. A few tourists swoon at the lit Eiffel Tower, kiss their significant others.

"I made the tower pretty," chuckles Craig.

"You called for that?" gasps Ashley. "Awww."

Ashley caresses his chin, moves her mouth against his. The driver starts the car, Craig raising the window up as they kiss.

"Mmm?" complains Craig as Ashley pulls away.

"Champagne really went to my head," moans Ashley, leaning her head against the seat.

"Thanks a lot, Jean," mutters Craig, resting an arm around Ashley.

The car moves down the avenue, pass the Seine, towards their hotel, a reasonably priced one Ashley found in her books. Despite her buzz, Ashley takes in the sight of the water, golden street lights illuminating the black water, boats sailing towards Notre Dame. From there, she can make out a couple gargoyles sitting high atop the tan cathedral, more opaque because of the black tinted windows. The gazing makes her sleepy. She closes her eyes, rests her head on Craig's chest.

When the car pulls up at the hotel, she opens her eyes, grips his hand as he thanks the driver for the excellent service. They pass the red-and-gold lobby, Craig fetching the card key. He mumbles a few numbers as they trudge to their room, enters the key, opens the door. Ashley crashes on the bed, laughs a little.

"I get so tipsy so easily," she says.

Craig shirks off his leather jacket, lays on the bed next to her.

"I only had a little," says Craig. "Wanna watch more bad Parisian commercials?"

"Can do that at home," waves off Ashley. "Mom and Jeff's TV has...interesting channels."

"Porn," whispers Craig.

"Shut up!" says Ashley, playfully shoving him.

Craig laughs, starts smoothing back Ashley's hair from her face. Ashley pretends to wince.

"You and your oh so subtle foreplay," moans Ashley.

"What?" exclaims Craig.

"It's the hair first, then hand going to a button, then we both know what comes next," says Ashley.

"Then why delay the inevitable?" whispers Craig, maneuvering on top of her.

Ashley sighs, starts inching up Craig's shirt. She gives in way too easily half the time, but he is her husband. The fact makes her smile, reach for his belt. Craig starts to kiss her neck, his mouth grinning as his nose touches the bottom of her ear. Ashley closes her eyes, listens to the near silence of the room, only the sound of their stripping off each other clothes, his breathing.

"I think you like me, Mrs. Manning," whispers Craig, raising his head to meet her gaze.

"Oh?" replies Ashley. "Well, that explains the wedding."

They laugh, resume kissing, breathe every French term of endearment they've heard until the night ends.


	3. Hey There Delilah

**III. Hey There Delilah **

Hey There Delilah is the property of Plain White Tees.

Hey there Delilah  
What's it like in New York City?  
I'm a thousand miles away  
But girl tonight you look so pretty  
Yes you do  
Times Square can't shine as bright as you  
I swear it's true

Hey there Delilah  
Don't you worry about the distance  
I'm right there if you get lonely  
Give this song another listen  
Close your eyes  
Listen to my voice it's my disguise  
I'm by your side

Oh it's what you do to me  
Oh it's what you do to me  
Oh it's what you do to me  
Oh it's what you do to me  
What you do to me

Hey there Delilah  
I know times are getting hard  
But just believe me girl  
Someday I'll pay the bills with this guitar  
We'll have it good  
We'll have the life we knew we would  
My word is good

Hey there Delilah  
I've got so much left to say  
If every simple song I wrote to you  
Would take your breath away  
I'd write it all  
Even more in love with me you'd fall  
We'd have it all  
Oh it's what you do to me

Oh it's what you do to me  
Oh it's what you do to me  
Oh it's what you do to me

A thousand miles seems pretty far  
But they've got planes and trains and cars  
I'd walk to you if I had no other way  
Our friends would all make fun of us  
and we'll just laugh along because we know  
That none of them have felt this way  
Delilah I can promise you  
That by the time we get through  
The world will never ever be the same  
And you're to blame

Hey there Delilah  
You be good and don't you miss me  
Two more years and you'll be done with school  
And I'll be making history like I do  
You know it's all because of you  
We can do whatever we want to  
Hey there Delilah here's to you  
This ones for you

Oh it's what you do to me  
Oh it's what you do to me  
Oh it's what you do to me  
Oh it's what you do to me  
What you do to me.  


Dedicated to Kathy (Happy Belated Birthday)!!!

You could barely hear a sound under the Bridge of Sighs, so quiet you wouldn't think that was the name. The various buildings line the water, greenery hanging over the black balconies. In the gondolas ahead, the oars dip into the aquamarine river. Their white and black-striped shirts waft in the wind. The sun's rays light the way, guiding the gondoliers in this floating city. Small streets in narrow passages have wash on the line, church bells echoing in the distance. It's music to those who hear, sweet, subtle music, while the day goes to its usual hiding place. 

Venice at night is extreme, secretive to the eye. Suddenly, lights burst from windows, occupants arriving home from work. The roses and lilies stand out all the brighter. Reflections of buildings overtake the water that supports them. It's a clandestine affair, classy in its effect.

I.

The gondola slows to a creeping crawl, Ashley making sure her shoe doesn't catch on the sidewalk's edge. Despite the romance of the sweeping lights and the two-seat boat coming just for them, it's still a bit dangerous to be riding like this in the dark. Then again, they've been through every dark patch together and then some. At least Craig has no trouble, helping her inside.

"Careful as always, Ash," he playfully chastises.

"You try doing this in heels," counters Ashley.

"Well, I didn't bring mine," says Craig, then turning to the gondolier. "One round trip please."

"_Si, signore_," he replies, tilting his brimmed hat.

With his oar at the ready, they're sailing in the water in no time. No longer nervous, Ashley gives into the sway of the ride. They dip under bridges, pass restaurants, see workers staggering home. It's a far cry from Canada, where she had to shuttle herself everywhere in her less than reliable car. Something tells her you could always rely on these boats to get you from place to place.

Something more reliable? How Kate took the news of her decision to be with Craig after rehab. She was proud of him for making it through but she didn't want to broadcast the two of them starting to date to everyone. So Kate was genuinely surprised when Ashley announced it to her.

_Ellie sniffed the contents of one bottle, immediately coughed. Ashley smiled secretly while Ellie regained her composure. _

"Smells like a flower garden," complained Ellie.

"Yeah, all those are Jimmy scents...a big flower fan," explained Ashley. "Half the time I put it on without even realizing I put it on."

"Oh, I'd definitely remember putting this on," said Ellie, scooting the perfume to the other side of Ashley's vanity.

Ashley rose from the desk, evaluating herself in the mirror. The mirror was one that she and Geri rescued from a department store with cheap prices. Jimmy offered to let her have the mirror they shared in their old home, and a few other things. She declined. If she wanted to see herself, really see herself, it'd be with her own, fresh mirror. She'd truly be a fresh person.

She likes what she sees, has since she quit law, and started teaching. Her wardrobe is a lot more comfortable, her make-up more simple, no perfume. Sure, Craig liked that, but she liked it, too. They always had the same taste, yet Ashley did cave and crave a second opinion. With Geri, her roommate, gone, she sought out Ellie. The first interactions with Ellie were hard, after Ellie's brief romance with Craig. When Ashley told her she and Craig were trying again, Ellie stared blankly at her and walked away. Ashley thought that was the end of their friendship. Luckily, it was just Ellie's typical reaction– walk, think about it, then tell her what's on her mind. What was on her mind gave Ashley great comfort. Ellie clearly told her that her past was Craig was too difficult, and that the feelings were too complicated for her to want to be with him again. In fact, she said she was emotionally exhausted and wondered why Ashley put up with it, making them both laugh. They both knew the answer. Craig was who Ashley admired, understood, and loved continuously.

Ellie crossed her arms, stared at Ashley's reflection.

"You'll make Craig wish he never left Toronto," complimented Ellie.

"Thanks, El," said Ashley. "I have no idea where we're going, so I'm dressing casual slash dressy."

"If he just takes you out for onion rings, I'll smack him," promised Ellie.

Ashley laughed. "Well, he's not Spinner."

"Maybe he should take you to a disco. Word on the street is it's not dead."

"I would physically have to harm him," jokes Ashley. "This isn't Freaks and Geeks."

Their laughter is drowned out by a persistent knock on the front door. It's faint, but Ellie's the first to go answer it, allowing Ashley more time to assess her look.

"Ms. Kerwin!" cries Ellie.

Ashley's eyes widen in shock as she takes a deep breath. What's her mother doing here? She came once at the beginning of the semester to see the place, but hasn't been back since.

"Oh, came to see how my daughter's getting along," replies Kate.

Judging by her mother's cool response, Ashley guesses there's no emergency. But why now? She had to meet Craig in the quad in less than an hour. Craig, of course, offered to pick her up at her door, but she had paperwork to drop off and thought it'd be easier to meet him there.

"I'll be leaving then," said Ellie.

Don't leave, she wants to shout to Ellie. If they were alone, Kate could read her face better, and there'd be less of a chance that she'd crack. Ugh, this is definitely ruining what is supposed to be a great night, thought Ashley, sighing.

"I'm in here, Mom," called Ashley, hearing the front door close after Ellie.

Kate peeped her head inside.

"Dressed, Mom," informed Ashley.

"I'll say," said Kate. "Where are you off to?"

Ashley shifted her eyes. "Mom..."

"Fine, fine," harrumphed Kate. "I guess since you're a young woman, I no longer get to hear about your social life?"

"I'm allowed a little privacy," returned Ashley.

"Just making sure your very active social life doesn't interfere with our anniversary party..."

"Guilt trip, not necessary," guaranteed Ashley. "Very proud of you, guys. Ten years of unwedded bliss."

Kate tilted her head to the side as Ashley grinned.

"Jeff and I have always been unconventional," said Kate, letting a smile cross her lips. "Besides, I don't see any ring on your finger, Ms. Kerwin."

"Who knows what the future holds?" replied Ashley, more to herself.

His curly hair and bright green eyes entered immediately into her mind. If the third time is indeed the charm, they'd be walking down the aisle, having anniversary parties, teasing their own daughter about her dates. Ashley smiled at the floorboards of her room.

"This must be some guy," said Kate, arching her eyebrow.

"Huh?" said Ashley.

"You're getting all spacey," noted Kate. "I haven't seen you this enamored since..."

Kate stopped talking, fiddled with a bracelet on her left hand. Ashley blushed, furiously. Okay, face reading time will begin now. Why did she let her mind wander?

"Since Jimmy," completed Kate.

Those two words sound so false coming from her mouth, like her own mother is grasping with hope. Judging by her lowered eyes, Ashley's well aware that Kate was thinking of the true guy behind her distracted gaze.

"_Ashley...," began Kate. _

"Did you come here to snoop?" interrupted Ashley. "_I'm almost twenty-one so that's borderline pathetic." _

"Pathetic? Me wanting what's best for you is pathetic?" exclaimed Kate.

"Look...sorry," sighed Ashley. "It's...just if we're adults, we should talk about this. I mean, I'm up for it."

"Fine," said Kate. "When did this start?"

"It's supposed to start tonight," said Ashley.

"Is...is he in school?" asked Kate. "What exactly is he doing?"

"What kind of question is that?" demanded Ashley.

"I haven't kept up with him, Ashley, so is it a wonder that I'm not up to date on his life? All I hear is rumors..."

"No...it's not a wonder," admitted Ashley, silently.

"It's unbelievable to me that you two would...ugh, never mind," breathed Kate.

"He's a successful musician," informed Ashley, hotly. "And that's believable. I care about him, so you can believe that, too."

Ashley grabbed her purse, put her keys and paperwork in the front pocket. Kate stood, delicately took her daughter's arms. _Ashley released a hesitant sigh. _

_"Is he out of rehab?" she questioned, gently._

_"Yes," said Ashley._

_"Well, that's good," said Kate, letting her go. "At least he's making progress..."_

_Progress? The word sounded so clinical and cold coming from her mother's mouth. It was almost as if she were describing her agenda to refurbish a forgotten home to one of her clients._

_"Because I know nothing about ruining my life with drugs," counters Ashley, smirking._

_"Ashley!" cried Kate. "That was very different..."_

_"Obviously," interrupted Ashley. "But you never judged me, so don't judge Craig. You didn't even judge Dad when Chris came along. You were in their wedding! Why do I find it so hard to believe that you wouldn't be in mine?"_

_"What wedding?" said Kate in disbelief._

_"Never mind, Mom," sighed Ashley. "You're missing the point."_

_Ashley walked out of her room, tears at the edges of her eyes. She didn't mean to accuse her Mom of certain things, but those worries had settled into her heart ages ago. They were present when Craig first proposed, that if they had gotten married so young, her mother wouldn't speak to her anymore. Simply put, her mother never warmed to Craig. What she wonders is if they ever will._

_"Ashley, come back here!" yelled Kate after her._

_It was the last thing Ashley heard as her feet lead her to Craig._

II.

"You think I should convince the guy to sing _Bella Notte_," whispers Craig in Ashley's ear.

Ashley stifles a smile.

"He'd probably throw you in for suggesting it," replies Ashley.

"Who doesn't like a good Disney classic?" continues Craig. "Hello, _Lady and the Tramp?_"

"Well, if I'm the lady, then you're the...," starts Ashley.

Craig places a hand over her mouth to prevent the rest, Ashley grinning under his fingers. The ride has gone pretty smoothly, small civilian chatter off in the distance as the boat rounds each corner. Ashley feels each rocking motion, enjoys every bit of lively color, the near silence. Craig removes his hand, and she glances at him. She wouldn't enjoy this as much with anyone else.

As the gondola careens down the canals, she spies the basilica of St. Mark. Its half-moon arches hold the dome ceiling. The spires stretch into the midnight sky. Four stone horses charge for no reason, yet their faces are set with purpose. This building must've stood there for centuries, appearing strong to the people who viewed it. How many moments, both good and bad, with her and Craig have been witnessed? People, like her mother, might've thought they couldn't get through it. Ashley had her doubts too, choosing to be with Jimmy. Now, look at them, sailing, nothing weighing them down.

When Craig wraps his arm around her, she's never felt more anchored.

III.

Despite the lame Disney crack, he feels this date has been going pretty well. He's been cornier, cheesier, lamer...okay, enough with the self-deprecation. Most of his best lines came through song, and most of his best lines have Ashley as the recipient. He recalls sitting at his desk or on the garage sofa composing. What makes him grin is thinking about how different he and Ashley chose to compose. She was always at her keyboard with perfect posture, usually sure where she was going next. Craig just kind of winged it and managed to be creative, usually laying on the couch with his guitar at his chest. It was truly a reflection of their personalities and artistic sensibilities.

Craig wiggles in the plush, red gondola bench, a tiny bit restless. That was one aspect of his personality that bothered him. It got him in trouble, except for that day that lead him to her. He went to Ashley as soon as he thought it was right. Meeting her after her music class...he wouldn't change that at all. There were other moments he might've changed a hair, though they did work out in the end.

_Spinner belched, scratched his stomach as he opened Craig's refrigerator. Craig had distant memories of him raiding Joey's fridge throughout high school, but let it go, continued to comb his hair. Marco, at least, is drinking his own latte. He hopes his guests help him reach his goal– deciding where to take Ashley on their first, post-rehab date. Marco was good for romantic advice, and Spinner knew where to go to have a good time. Balance the two and jackpot. _

"Dude, you know what you should do!" cried Spinner, happily. "Take Ashley to Medieval Times! You can eat with your fingers...it was so cool!"

"He is not taking Ashley to Medieval Times," said Marco, forcefully.

"Yeah, that's more for you and your training buddies, Spin," concurred Craig.

"You get a crown," whispered Spinner, loud enough to make Craig smile.

"What kind of food does she like?" asked Marco.

"Restaurants are so...so done," complained Craig. "I think we should do something new, something special."

"Clubs? Concerts?" suggested Marco.

"Checked the paper...nothing's coming through," shared Craig. "And clubs...not the best dancer."

Marco tapped his chin as Spinner joined him on the sofa. So far, things weren't going so hot. What other things could they do? Toronto's a lively city, not as much as Los Angeles or New York when he was on tour, but it wasn't a place in the middle of nowhere. The larger issue was that Craig promised Nick that he'd select a place where there wasn't a lot of temptations, namely any building where he could relapse. Hence, Craig made up some excuses to shut down the club and concert ideas, which were good. _If Craig proved to Nick that he could handle those environments, eventually Nick would let him go wherever he wanted. Tonight, though, has to be safe and family-friendly. _

"There has to be...," started Craig.

"Bowling!" exclaimed Spinner. "It's...it's like new for you guys...and you get shoes! Man, what could be more tight?"

"Uh, shaving my dad's moustache," replies Marco, rolling his eyes. "What do you and Paige do? Play Rock 'Em Sock 'Em robots?"

"Charity fashion shows," mumbled Spinner.

Craig and Marco shook their heads, chuckling. Then, his cellphone buzzed. Ashley. She must've dropped off her paperwork and is heading for the quad.

"_Wish me luck, boys," said Craig. _

"Luck," say Marco and Spinner at the same time.

Putting on his leather jacket, Craig salutes his friends before opening the door.

"Dude, what are we going to do tonight?" questioned Spinner.

"I don't know," said Marco as the door shut.

The walk to his car and the drive to the campus didn't seem long at all. His anticipation must've ate up the seconds. As soon as he stepped onto the lawn, he saw her. Ashley paced, so like her, but he wouldn't knock her for it. He couldn't since his stomach is in knots. She looked so gorgeous in a short-sleeved, black dress, with lace around the sleeves. Her simple, black heels made her more statuesque. _Craig felt all his teeth showing as he approached her. _

"Wandering the campus this late at night?" he called to her.

Ashley smiled, her eyes shining.

"Be careful...I have a mean slapping hand," warned Ashley.

"I remember," joked Craig. "Man, and I wanted to take you out tonight."

"Hmmm, well, if you're willing to pay, then I'm willing to go," said Ashley. "Where?"

Oh boy, he was so excited about seeing her that he never came up with any definitive plan. He ran the requirements in his head: special, new, clean.

"Bowling," he says, quickly.

No, that wasn't supposed to be on the checklist. Ashley eyed him curiously. If only he could bang his head against the bulletin board announcing campus activities. If only he read the board to see if there were campus activities they could attend. _Craig shrugged. _

"Bowling?" whispered Ashley, then more loudly. "Sure."

"Yeah?" exclaimed Craig.

"Uhhh...yeah," answered Ashley.

Ashley Kerwin actually wanted to bowl? Go figure. Craig tentatively took her hand, felt the softness of her skin. Hey, at least that was one thing that made sense as they both smile.

He opened the car door when they reached it, Ashley thanking him. Once they're both in the car, Craig realized that he only knew one bowling alley in the vicinity. Joey took Angie there once for a birthday party and Craig had to take her home afterwards. He never thought he'd be bringing Ashley there one day.

When they reached their destination, a neon pink bowling ball glowing above the name Brett's Bowl-A-Rama, Craig winced. He hid it well when Ashley glanced over at him. Out of all the suggestions, he chose Spinner's? That can't bode well for them. He turned to Ashley to apologize, offer an alternative. He's alarmed to see that she's sad. It was the type of sadness that was more than disappointment so he's sure it's not related to Brett's.

"Ready?" said Ashley, with a forced grin.

"Ready," replied Craig, pushing his car door open.

After opening the door for Ashley, they walked inside the alley, not quite prepared for what they viewed. There was so much neon it hurt Craig's eyes. The smell of fried food and floor polish filled his nostrils. Shiny balls barreled down the lanes with a clatter as pins fell. Craig felt like he was in the fifties, when the music wasn't that good. On the other hand, that is when rock n' roll started to become "in", so props for that.

"Why do I feel like I should be wearing a poodle skirt?" laughed Ashley.

It was good to see her in better spirits.

"And me in a sequined jacket," added Craig, tugging on his own jacket.

They advanced to the shoe and ball rental counter, a burly man sucking on a Slurpee, absent-mindedly.

"Hi," greeted Craig.

"Hello, lane lovers!" he says, brightly, breaking free from his Slurpee stupor. "Welcome to Brett's Bowl-A-Rama, where we let the good times roll!"

Ashley coughed, Craig assured that she was holding in some sarcastic chuckle. He was itching to do the same.

"That's why we're here," said Craig, politely. "Um, I'm a...ten."

The man nodded. He immediately fetched two pairs of shoes. Ashley gave him a puzzled look.

"With ladies, I can always tell," assured the man.

"Okay...thanks," said Ashley, taking them.

"We also need...," began Craig.

"Balls," inserted the man. "You definitely need balls, sir."

Craig and Ashley exchange an amused glance, Ashley giggling quietly this time. Eh, he was always the butt of some jab. He'd take it if it made Ashley happy. The man set two bowling balls in front of them, a dark blue one and a pink one.

"Pink?" moaned Ashley.

"Girls love pink," said the man.

Ashley picked up the ball, Craig telling she's resisting the urge to gag. It was an ugly pink, too, the color of wet bubblegum. Eh, they'd both have to suffer it seemed.

"Your pencils," said the man, retrieving the rest. "And...cash?"

"Right," says Craig, removing his wallet.

They paid and went to a lane in the center, next to another young couple who smiled at them and went about their game. The two of them were way more advanced, the woman getting a strike as he and Ashley settled in. He supposed he should get some conversation going.

"So we haven't been...been talking," noted Craig.

"We haven't," said Ashley.

That didn't work as their words failed them after he said that. Normally, they had no trouble with talking. Being vocal was normal for both of them, and they had a lot to share since being out of contact. What's preventing them from doing what they've always done? Craig put on his bowling shoes, cursing himself.

"Can you bowl at all?" asked Ashley.

"I'm...I'm pretty good," said Craig.

Well, yes and no. He was good enough to beat two girls at Angie's friend's birthday party. But he doesn't want to be embarrassed anymore for the rest of their date.

"Show me what you got," encouraged Ashley.

"Yeah...um, yeah," replied Craig.

Craig dug his fingers into the holes, and went to the end of the lane. Ashley wrote their names on the score card, then stared at Craig with a hopeful gaze. Craig chuckled nervously, held the ball in front of him. With a huge breath, he inched back, let the ball fly. It rolled to the middle, then right into the gutter.

"Haven't...haven't been practicing," said Craig, rubbing his hands together.

"No bowling alleys on tour," commiserated Ashley. "My turn?"

He nodded, _let Ashley pass him. With weakened pride, he wrote the zero, a big goose egg, on the score card. He grinned when he saw how Ashley wrote his name. It seemed a stupid thing to smile over, but it just felt like forever since she's written it. If he goes back on tour, he'd love to get letters or e-mails from her. E-mails were cool, yet letters took time and Ashley loved to write. _

"Alright, Ash!" he cheered.

Ashley blushed, proceeded to throw her ball. With a resolute slam, her ball takes down eight pins. Craig's jaw dropped.

"Whoa," breathed Ashley, backing up in surprise.

"What!" exclaimed Craig. "You're a total pro!"

"No, I...I swear," argued Ashley, grinning. "I think I was upset they gave me a pink ball so I threw it pretty hard."

Craig rose, not quite done with teasing her.

"Do you have one of those embroidered, lined shirts, with Ashley stitched on the right side?" said Craig. "Serve strikes to opposing teams on Saturdays? Member of a league?"

"Shut up!" _cried Ashley playfully. _

He tickled her slightly, relishing the excuse to finally get closer. Ashley gave in, finally let his arms hold her. He can't explain it. For some reason, she was lighter in his arms, belonged there, like his guitar when he's singing at his best. It' was some weird kismet, after all these years. He wouldn't trade it for anything.

Sharing a mutual shy glance, they sat at the desk, the score board illuminating their names.

"So Spin was the one who suggested this oh so brilliant scheme to go bowling," confessed Craig.

"Wait...you took dating advice from Spin?" said Ashley. "Then again, at least it's not a wrestling match."

Craig beamed. "That could be date number two."

"I like the sound of that," said Ashley, tucking hair behind her ears.

She gave Craig a light shove, frowned as she wrote down eight for frame one. Well, now that the ice has thawed, he could ask her why she appeared so sad when he met her.

"Ash, what's wrong?" asked Craig.

"You always know when something's wrong," sighed Ashley, more from appreciation than annoyance. "It's...my mom."

"Okay? And it has to do with..."

"Us," filled in Ashley. "She can't get past the past. Never mind all the wonderful things you've done. Things I've always known you were capable of."

A flutter of pleasure filled Craig's stomach. She always said she'd cheer him on, and after several years of them being apart, she felt the same.

"I don't care," continued Ashley. "I've made a decision not to care."

"Maybe you do or else you wouldn't be bothered by it," suggested Craig.

He thought back to when he wouldn't let anyone, including Ellie, see how he was really angry that Ashley stayed in England, or when he learned that Ashley and Jimmy were dating. Sometimes when you pretend not to care, you care even more.

"This is dampening the mood," said Ashley, patting his knee.

As soon as those words were uttered, the florescent lighting in the alley dimmed, changed to a floating burst of color, green and purple lights shining on lanes and pins and people. Ashley and Craig exchanged looks of confusion. The man they saw earlier grabbed a microphone.

"The moment you've been waiting for, folks...Couples Bowling Spotlight!" he announced.

Right after his enthusiastic voice, the speakers start to blast a melodic song that if you asked Craig was too mainstream for his tastes. Ashley half-smiled, shook her head. Everyone else was taking advantage of the change in their surroundings, dancing near the edge of the lane or continuing to bowl.

Hey there Delilah  
What's it like in New York City?  
I'm a thousand miles away  
But girl tonight you look so pretty  
Yes you do  
Times Square can't shine as bright as you  
I swear it's true

_"This may the oddest moment of our lives," surmised Ashley. "Bright colors, garish lingo, a top 40 radio hit..." _

"Do you want to dance?" interjected Craig.

"Alright," said Ashley, taking his outstretched hand.

"We'll have a funny story to tell," comforted Craig as Ashley winced.

He placed his hands on her slender waist, gazed into her shining eyes. They shine more in the dark. In fact, all her features shine in the dark. Why not? She was the inspiration for "Something 'Bout the Way You Shine." That's when he was young, sometimes arrogant, sometimes sweet. That's when he sent cards that didn't truly reveal his emotions, chased excitement because he was afraid to confront deeper feelings.

_"What are you thinking?" quizzed Ashley. _

"I'm thinking of every dance we've had, and like...every moment we've missed," said Craig.

"Let's see," said Ashley. "There was the luau dance..."

"Talk about your awkward first dates," laughed Craig. "Snapped at you, tore down a banner, left you pondering what was wrong with me. Totally ditched you."

"I knew you were coming back, though," shared Ashley.

"You...you did?" stammered Craig.

"I...I just knew," said Ashley with complete confidence.

"Like I knew you'd totally rock after the Creed guy blasted us," assured Craig.

"We did," agreed Ashley.

Hey there Delilah  
I know times are getting hard  
But just believe me girl  
Someday I'll pay the bills with this guitar  
We'll have it good  
We'll have the life we knew we would  
My word is good

"Why do we always believe the best about each other?" breathed Ashley, winding her arms around Craig's head.

"We both know the answer to that," replied Craig.

"Perfect answer," said Ashley.

Hey there Delilah  
I've got so much left to say  
If every simple song I wrote to you  
Would take your breath away  
I'd write it all  
Even more in love with me you'd fall  
We'd have it all

Oh it's what you do to me

She hugged him tightly, certainly able to tell that his heartbeat was quickening, his pulse was racing. The multi-colored lights paint their bodies green and purple, and far off is the sound of fallen pins and rolling balls, but all they hear is the sound of each other breathing. He'd have to give Spinner credit. It wasn't the worst date imaginable. Man.

"I love you, Craig," whispered Ashley against his cheek.

"I love you, too. Pink ball and all," whispered Craig.

They laugh, Craig closing his eyes as Ashley rests her head against his chest.

The ride on the way to Ashley's was less tense. Craig wanted to hear all about her students and her classes. Since he wasn't getting the university experience, everything interested him, especially with Ashley as a music major. Once in a while, he thought back to when he received that amazing letter in the mail, when he was accepted to Toronto on a music scholarship. He knew university wasn't for him, but the "what if" scenario played in his mind on the occasion. 

Their kiss that night was fantastic. Not having Nick on his conscience, or anyone else for that matter, loosened his lips and they were pretty numb when Ashley finally made it inside. Craig leaned against her door, grinning from ear to ear. He left after hearing her move throughout the room for a minute or so.

What prompted him to make the next move, he can't honestly say. The possibility of doing something so brave went through his brain as he and Ashley returned the shoes. While Ashley jokingly boasted about winning, he formulated a plan, a plan he didn't consult with anyone about, including Nick.

Sure enough, he found the courage to be outside the Kerwin residence the next morning. The afternoon was sunny, a beautiful Saturday.

_Toby, rubbing his eyes without his glasses on, answered after the fourth ring. He definitely looked older, with stubble on his chin and a University of Toronto sweatshirt. Despite his tiredness, Toby was his usual polite self and let Craig in and went to fetch Kate. _

Craig sat on a couch he remembered sitting on briefly, when he and Ashley first started dating. Jeff would come in to check on them, pretending to check the answering machine or offering them beverages. Kate simply gave Craig a look that paralyzed him, went about her daily routine. Not surprisingly, Kate did the same when she saw him that day. Immaculately dressed in a navy blue business suit, Kate came downstairs, frowning.

"Craig," she greeted, coldly.

"Hi, Ms. Kerwin," he said. "Sorry if I'm keeping you from anything."

"No, you came at a good time," replied Kate. "What brings you to our neck of the woods?"

"Um...um, Ashley," he answered, quickly.

Kate smiled sarcastically, said nothing. Instead, she went to a nearby desk, started digging in her briefcase. Craig took a deep breath. If he was going to say this, he wanted her to look him in the eye. He stood, walked to where he was inches away from Kate.

"I'm...I'm clean, and mature...different," insisted Craig. "I swear, you wouldn't believe you were looking at the same guy."

"You look the same to me," said Kate, coolly.

"Well, I'm not," insisted Craig, careful not to raise his voice. "Ashley and I waited months to be together. I never pushed her to be with me."

"So it was her decision to be with you?" asked Kate.

"Yes, and I'm not going to screw it up this time," said Craig. "That's why I'm here. I know that your opinion matters to Ashley."

"When we talked yesterday, it was quite the opposite," informed Kate.

"That's not what I saw last night," said Craig.

Kate refrained from moving and let her briefcase fall onto the desk. He'd obviously said something that interested her. Hopefully, he could maintain that interest.

"I put in the work to earn Ashley's trust a long time ago," reminded Craig. "If I have to put in more work to earn your trust, I'm willing."

She released a sigh, a sigh that was similar to Ashley's when she was exasperated with a song that she had no patience for. Craig stared into her eyes, hoping it would help.

"My opinion is...my daughter's going to get hurt for a third time," said Kate. "You don't have to do any work for something I know won't last."

Tossing him a dismissive glance, Kate inched past Craig and left her home. Craig leaned against the desk, face flushed. The roaring engine of Kate's car echoed through the window.

Ashley shakes Craig from his reverie, as the gondola nears the dock. The memories seemed to come as the boat reached its final stop. Red and white posts, resembling peppermint sticks, become less blurry as they go forward. Fellow boats sit there, waiting to carry other people away in the Venetian evening. 

The last remembrance is one that often replays itself– Kate telling him that they weren't going to make it. Craig was so certain too, that she'd give them her blessing. That came later, but at least it came. He was glad. There's only so many times you can talk to someone without your voice getting thin.

With a rocky bump, the boat stands alongside the dock. Ashley places a hand on her heart and breathes deeply.

"We survived...I told you!" comments Craig.

"I was fine," says Ashley, unconvincingly. "No...no more risks tonight, though. Promise?"

Tonight, he could do. Other nights, he can't guarantee. Taking risks to make Ashley happy? That's pretty much programmed in his head and heart.

"Promise," guarantees Craig.


End file.
